


Carpe Diem

by tarie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter encounters Susan after along absence; she is happily betrothed to Jon.  How will she react upon seeing her brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

> I used to be a member of Tabula Rasa RPG, a panfandom RPG set on a mysterious island where people just show up out of thin air. Any humanoid character who arrives loses their powers/becomes fully human. For the holiday season, we did Secret Santas and gave our person various gifts (icons, paid time, fanmixes, layouts, headers, ficlets, kudos, etc). This was a gift for the person who played Susan Pevensie, who lived in an island settlement filled with characters from _A Song of Ice and Fire_ series; she was in a relationship with Jon Snow...

Susan shouldn't have looked. Curiosity oughtn't be yielded to when it came to others' belongings. That had been what Mum had always said, hadn't it? It had been so long and Susan couldn't recollect specific things about home properly, but it certainly sounded like something Mum would have said.

Had she been quick and discreet about it, Susan would merely have placed the tunic she'd just finished (black, emroidered about the collar with the Starks' sigil), with Sansa's help, atop Jon's things, set the feathers she had reamed for fletching beside that, and gone on to the kitchen to prepare Sunday breakfast with nary to fret about.

But she hadn't been quick and she had looked. There, beside a pair of worn, threadbare breeches, had been a white cloak, one she hadn't seen Jon wear before. Though it was folded, a good portion of the embellishment showed; Susan didn't need but a moment to discern what it was: a large grey direwolf. The cloak was a bride's cloak. How long had Jon had such a thing?

The question played over and over in her mind as she left Summerfell, her sturdy shoes falling firmly against the ground as she ascended the path toward the compound. On her hand was the small wooden ring Jon had gifted her for her nameday. Though it was plain in appearance, it was more precious to Susan than any amount of gold or jewels. Knowing he had crafted it with his own two hands for her afforded the simple circumference its pricelessness.

When she had showed the ring to Sansa, talk had turned to the importance of rings in Earth customs and naturally the conversation had gravitated to marriage and wedding customs on Earth, in Narnia, and in Westero. While Susan didn't fancy herself as the sort of girl who had any interest in being married at the time, seeing the bride's cloak with her own two eyes had unsettled her for reasons she cared not to even admit to herself.

Lost in her thoughts, her stomach clenching unkindly, Susan picked up her skirts and hastened along the path. Perhaps losing herself in the preparation of food would take the edge off. She hadn't made strawberry tarts in some time; perhaps she could make them, they always went over well with the breakfast crowd–

"Su." The voice was one she had, shamefully, begun to forget, but in the moment it reached her ears after such an unkind absence, she remembered it in waves and colours.

Susan froze; were her ears deceiving her? Surely the island could not be so cruel as to taunt her in this manner?

"I say, have you forgotten me?"

No, she was not being taunted.

Her stomach unclenched as she pivoted, long hair flying behind her. There, long and lean and lordly as he leant against a solid palm tree, was Peter, looking well and quite resplendent in his royal clothes.

"Peter," she whispered. And then, unbidden: " _Stay_." She could not bear it if he left her again. Losing him once had been difficult. Losing him twice had been a fate worse than death. A third loss would be immeasurable in its destruction of her.

Peter stared at her for a long moment, his pale brow furrowing for an instant. And then Susan saw recognition light upon his face, and quickly she became encircled by his strong, sure arms. "Stay," he murmured against her hair. "Do not ask of me what I can no longer promise, Susan." The pads of his thumbs ran lightly along the line of her jaw on either side of her face, and she felt tears, hot and stinging and wet, well up in her eyes. "And do not cry, for you are meant to be here."

"And what of you, Peter? Lucy and Edmund are here; what of you?" Susan asked, her voice breaking. Lest she cry in front of her brother, her High King, she pressed her face against his shoulder. Inhaling his scent, she felt more at peace here and with herself than she had since he left.

"Susan." Her name was like a prayer upon his lips and Susan's heart skipped two beats.

Peter's hands were strong and sure as they cupped her cheeks, tilting her head back so she could properly see him.

"Peter," she said softly, scarcely daring to hope his answer was favourable; she could not endure disappointment again.

"I am no longer friend to Tabula Rasa, just as you are no longer friend to Narnia," he said carefully, leaning toward her. His breath rolled against and over her skin, and Susan inhaled deeply, his exhalations becoming her air, her lifeline, if only for one moment. "This is the way it is to be," Peter added, and then his mouth was upon hers, hot and longing yet gentle.

_I cannot do this_ , a voice sounded in the back of Susan's mind, though she ignored it, smaller hands finding purchase upon Peter's shoulders, upon his nape, upon his scalp, fingers carding into his hair.

Mouth to mouth, soul to soul, blood to blood, brother to sister, King to Queen. Worlds away now and yet not at all.

"Su," Peter murmured, his lips moving against hers. "It is the will of the Lion." He placed a hand upon her heart and took one of hers to do the same to him. "Away I must, but I shall always stay with you here, just as you will in me."

Beneath her palm was heated flesh, sinewy muscle, and the heart of the greatest king Narnia would ever know, and she did not care for the will of the Lion, not at all.

Just then something minute and wet fell upon her cheek, and Susan raised her eyes to the sky. It was snowing. On the island.

"Peter," she breathed, the Lion momentarily forgotten. "Winter is coming. Queer, isn't–" As her eyes returned to the place where Peter had been, they settled on nothing. Like the protective warmth that had encircled her moments ago, he was gone.


End file.
